You awaken feeling strangled, coughing and choking as you fall to your hands and knees. Your eyes open wearily - and you see nothing. Gasping for air, you glance about wildly, disoriented, and realize to your horror that you're in the middle of a vast, black emptiness. Terrified, you instinctively grasp at the void about you for something - anything - solid. You realize that despite the enveloping darkness, your arms glow with a strange light - suddenly you pause and rack your brain for any hint as to what's going on. The last you remember clearly is being sold to Tartarus Inc. You remember them strip-searching you, your last possessions taken away before the coarse-mannered guards threw you into an empty cell. Everything about it seems a struggle to recall - clouded and fogged as though a distant memory.

A glow brightens to your right - in surprise and slight fear, you scoot back across the floor as you try to assess the new threat. A human form, dressed in a Tartarus jumpsuit, appears and crumples to the floor, choking and gasping for breath.

I'm so sorry, the voice says with an air that makes it clear her words are merely a formality. I understand that this experience is mentally agonizing. We're far from perfecting cryotech, you see, but you are here to help us correct that. You are our test subjects. If you ever want to awaken, both of you will cooperate. You've always cooperated with us before, so I have no doubt you'll do so now.

Your mind whirls. You vaguely remember being pulled from your isolation cell - you remember being marched down a hallway, blindfolded, cuffed and gagged - something injected into your arm. That's all you remember. Cryotech? That doesn't even exist...

Then it sinks in: You've always cooperated with us before. "Before???"

It's "brain maintenance," the voice explains in a resigned, curt tone, as though she's said it a hundred times. Cryotech has a tendency to leave one vegetative. Now, the both of you... make your decision, and we will begin.

The void hums, and shivers to life - six pale, golden hexagons of light appear pm the floor around you, spaced well apart. On each: a short paragraph of text.

You feel like you've done this before.

But which to stand upon? And who is this person next to you?

Illegal rescue
One of your best friends and accomplices is being held captive on a federal defense outpost in orbit around the moon Jimis A to await the arrival of a Mimir vessel. You've managed to get past the hangars - now do whatever it takes to rescue your pal. Your identities won't stay hidden for long.

Prison break
You and your companion have been arrested and put in a cell in a coreworld prison... but a mysterious benefactor has provided you with gear, quietly dumped into your cell through a vent, with which you can make your escape... if you're lucky enough.

Fleeing suspect
A major suspect in one of your recent investigations has figured out you were tailing him and fled into "the bad side of town" on Orthus Etienne V - specifically, a hideout for a major local gang, the Black Serpents. You're left with no choice but to follow him through and hope you emerge unscathed.

Colony eradication
Wipe out the Mataduktun colony on a nearby moon. Nobody likes a Mataduktun, and it's really lowering the property values. Worse, it's likely to attack attention from the coreworlds, and that's the last thing you want. It would put an end to your pirate operation.This tile has the silhouette of a spaceship underneath the text.

Bank heist
A fairly stereotypical bank heist set on an old-fashioned midworld. Hold civilians hostage, get the goods, and get out before the authorities arrive, or you'll have a shootout on your hands.

Something different
You are thrown into a random mission without any idea of what you're up against. It may or may not suit your abilities and loadout.A question mark dominates this particular hexagon.

- This is canon, but your character does not necessarily need to remember it. You have the OOC option to have a mindwipe of the experience post-tryout/pre-campaign. Whether your teammate's character remembers the experience is up to them.
- This is VR. You know this, but your character does not necessarily know this. Whether your character can figure it out is up to your discretion.
- A spaceship silhouette means the mission is CASKET-based.
- Your mission selection is quasi-randomly assigned with a weighted algorithm that takes your personalities, stats, skills, and official loudout into account.
- On average, half your tryout points will come from the tryout mission itself. You are being judged from the moment the thread is posted.
- Each team will have their own tryout thread. Do not post in someone else's thread.
- Type in ((out of character parentheses)) in the tryout thread if you feel it necessary. No need to post elsewhere - it's your thread and no one else's, so you needn't feel bad about cluttering it up.
- There are no maps. As this is VR, it uses "fluid space" as REKT VR traditionally has - that is to say, if you imagine something is there, it may well be there (unless I say it isn't). In a forest and need cover? Say there's a tree next to you and duck behind it. This will probably work. Want a bigger weapon? Say you pick up your death ray from behind the counter - but don't be surprised if I say there's nothing there. Use common sense and don't try to cheat the system - and above all, ignore nothing that I say.
- To activate your choice, both of you must stand on your golden hexagon.
- If you die, that's okay. If you die within the first turn or two, that's not okay.
- Don't be surprised if I cut the mission short. I almost certainly will. These are not meant to be full missions - it is merely a sample to judge from.
- Asking for ideas from other people is completely permitted. Offering ideas is completely permitted as well - as long as you don't do it in someone else's thread.
- Poor performance of your teammate does not mean you do any more poorly in the tryout. You are judged separately.
- I will be judging a number of things, but can't give specifics without compromising the judging process.
- Have fun! If it's not fun for you, let me know, and I'll try to switch things around.

"Well, you dont look familiar. Do I know you? Or are you vegetabley? I hope not. Then I'd have to kill everyone myself."

I go inspect all the hexes.

I say to the person standing next to me: "Hmm, well, I think I'd like to kill that fleeing suspect guy. I mean, if I'm gonna kill people, which I totally am, and a lot of them might as well make them bad ones, right?"

"Oh, also. Computer lady person, how are we supposed to get there from here? I don't see any doors around."

"Why do people always seem to think I like waking up drugged. Ron damn it"
"Also, killing people, isn't that like, at least a little amoral? Could we try to just, I don't know, taze the son-of-a-notRon?"

Ron shrugs, then walks over and stands on the hexagon for the Fleeing suspect.
"Might as well get this over with then, right?"

Fleeing suspect
A major suspect in one of your recent investigations has figured out you were tailing him and fled into "the bad side of town" on Orthus Etienne V - specifically, a hideout for a major local gang, the Black Serpents. You're left with no choice but to follow him through and hope you emerge unscathed.

The hexagon below your feet glows to a bright, brilliant gold, shining up around you, casting flickering shimmers across the clothes of you and your companion, rising upwards in a climbing crescendo of light as it drowns out all else - so strong you can almost feel it - almost taste it -

- and then, with a flash... it's gone. There is nothing.

There isn't sound - there isn't light - not even your hands are visible. It's as though naught exists but your thoughts, and that in a vacuum. The world around you darkens even further - blacker than your mind can even process.

And all is quiet.

It stays that way... but only for a moment.

Suddenly the world transforms to a rainy scene of a smoggy twilight, interspersed with the roaring noise of traffic and the engine of your open-air, rainshielded speedster. The tall steel-and-glass buildings about you reach to the sky, peppered with lights and bright signs, grimy with age and neglect. You streak between them, leaning sharply to the left as you make another tight turn. You're hot on someone's trail - a suspect, Kiefa Lannison. She's just faintly visible through the downpour, a hundred meters in the distance.

You've been on Lannison for a while. She's wanted for a series of high-profile murders, including that of a prominent politician - more than enough cause to get her sent to Mimir's execution chambers. Today you found ample evidence to convict her - but at the same time, she mysteriously disappeared. A few phone calls later, and you had her again. As a member of the UOEIA - the Undercover Orthius Etienne Investigative Administration - what you do in your day-to-day business isn't always strictly "legal". You're allowed to break what laws you need in order to get the job done, and the local law enforcement looks the other way. Everything gets covered up. You answer to no one but yourself and the Investigative Council. Right now, the objective is to hunt her down and either capture or eliminate her - at any cost.

The buildings about you become increasingly run-down, dark, short, and abandoned as you continue. More and more are poured concrete and metal scrap. Fires flicker in a few of them as you pass, getting ever closer to Lannison as she weaves through the streets.

Westside, and especially the Black Serpent district, are in a near-constant state of gang warfare. Streets are intermittent, and in some areas, nonexistent - the buildings have expanded and taken over the streets to protect from exposure to the mildly toxic rain. Suddenly, just as you're almost close enough for a guaranteed shot, she slows, leaping from her bike and letting it tumble and skid to a stop. You've got her now.

...or so you think, but Lannison dashes through an open doorway to the left, marked with a painted serpent decal twined about it, solid black - right into the heart of the Black Serpent building complex. This is bad news. You could be facing any number of militant gang members inside, and without a clear plan it'll be easy to get lost. The interiors haven't been mapped. You skid your speedster to a stop and dismount, grabbing your weaponry and dashing to the edge of the doorway. You hear noises from within the moderately-sized entry chamber - Lannison's voice, and those of three or four men in the harsh Westside accent. She'll probably try to get them to cover her escape.

((Sorry about the delay. Things have been busy LT-wise; this got moved down a couple steps in priority as other things got moved to "critical". Things have mostly settled down now, though, so I'm getting back to work.))

Ronson
You shrug at your partner when he asks how you got there. Hell if you know. "Looks like we don't get to do this the easy way." Saying this, you climb off your speedster and whip out your plasma streamer from behind your back. Being a member of the UOEIA has its benefits; one of these is unrestricted use of high-powered weaponry. Shouldering this monstrosity - a favorite of yours - you dash to the doorway opposite Sparky, keeping a low profile. You get there just in time to hear someone saying something inside the room.

"- saw two of them, I think. I couldn't shake them." This voice belongs to Lannison. You'd know it anywhere.

"Dammit, Kiefa," someone says, groaning. You hear the click of a battery pack in a laser rifle. "This is the third time we've had to clean up your messes just this month."

"They'll be here any second now!" the girl protests. "Just hold them off, I need to get to the safe house, okay?"

"God, okay, fukc you Kiefa. You'd better pay up after this."

You peek inside the room, cautiously. The ceiling (and rooms above it) seem to be held up by six large, flat concrete pillars. Barrels of fire burn on the far side of the room, around which four men talk to Lannison. Classic slum conditions. You dash inside and get into cover before anyone can even lift a finger against you - but they spot you in the process. A trigger-happy grunt - one of the four men - shouts and fires in your general direction; bullets smack into the concrete wall behind you.

Without hesitation, you sling your plasma streamer around and pull the trigger. The room flashes, flickering wildly with light as a superheated stream of plasma gushes forth, carving a deep, dark gash across the room in a rapid arc towards the four thugs opposite you. At the last moment, you make a solid effort to toast Lannison - she's as good to you dead as alive - but she's cowering behind one of the pillars. She lets out a short shriek; it seems you've injured her at least. The smoking corpse of one of the criminals, too slow to dodge, falls aside - in two directions as it crumples, sliced cleanly through the leg, midsection and head.

A set of three greenish plasma bombs explode on the far end of the room, sending showers of concrete and dust out in all directions as one of them shatters a pillar and another manages to kill a second thug. Somewhere else, you hear another one of them screaming in horror. Clearly, whoever the cops sent last didn't have firepower like you. Your weapons will take a bit of time to recharge, though. You hope they don't figure it out.

Lannison seems to understand this; she flees the room - limping, you notice - and heads down the hallway at the back. As you're looking, one of the gangsters manages to nail you in the shoulder with his laser rifle - merely a flesh wound, fortunately, but it burns like the devil.

And Lannison is getting away.

Sparky
Your partner shrugs at you when you ask how you got there. "Looks like we don't get to do this the easy way," he says, climbing off his speedster and whipping out his plasma streamer from behind his back. You follow suit, getting out your plasma bomb launcher. Being a member of the UOEIA has its benefits; one of these is unrestricted use of high-powered weaponry. Shouldering this monstrosity - a favorite of yours - you dash to the doorway opposite Ronson, keeping a low profile. You get there just in time to hear someone saying something inside the room.

"- saw two of them, I think. I couldn't shake them." This voice belongs to Lannison. You'd know it anywhere.

"Dammit, Kiefa," someone says, groaning. You hear the click of a battery pack in a laser rifle. "This is the third time we've had to clean up your messes just this month."

"They'll be here any second now!" the girl protests. "Just hold them off, I need to get to the safe house, okay?"

"God, okay, fukc you Kiefa. You'd better pay up after this."

You peek inside the room, cautiously. The ceiling (and rooms above it) seem to be held up by six large, flat concrete pillars. Barrels of fire burn on the far side of the room, around which four men talk to Lannison. Classic slum conditions. Ronson dashes inside to get into cover - but they spot him. A trigger-happy grunt - one of the four men - shouts and fires in his general direction; bullets smack into the concrete wall in front of you, and you duck back into cover.

By the time you look back, Ronson is opening fire; the room flashes and flickers wildly with light as his plasma stream carves a deep, dark gash into the floor, obliterating one gangster and wounding another. You bring the triple-barreled goodness of your plasma bomb launcher to bear, stepping out of cover just long enough to decimate one of the pillars and splatter one of the bandits with a mess of blood, gore, and gibs, his half-cooked skull splattering on the wall from the loud explosions. Somewhere else, you hear another one of the thugs screaming in horror. Clearly, whoever the cops sent last didn't have firepower like you. Your weapons will take a bit of time to recharge, though. You hope they don't figure it out.

Lannison seems to understand this; she flees the room - limping, you notice - and heads down the hallway at the back. Just then, one of the gangsters manage to nail Ronson in the shoulder and he stumbles back. You see the other - the wounded one - unfastening a grenade; his shadow, cast by barrellight, flickers on the wall.

I fire another burst of my tripple barreled goodness if neither of us are in the way of it's splash, else I draw and fire 3 pistol shots at the enemies.

"Damn, I wish this thing charged faster. I need to see about upgrading it's capacitor bank, maybe store more energy. Or maybe I could rig the reactor..." I trail off, mumbling about technical shenanigans to make boom have more boom per unit of boom. More Most boom is best boom!

If an enemy tries to throw a grenade or break cover, I fire once at them.If and ONLY if I am getting rushed and have no other alternatives (such as safely falling back), fire my pistol at the enemy rushing me until they die.After all the enemies are dead, I draw my plasma launcher again, carefully moving forwards with Ron.

"So, what was it you said your name was? That gun you have leaves some wicked burns, makes me want something similar."

Last edited by firedude1218 on Sun Apr 30, 2017 6:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Ronson
You ready your kinetic gauntlet and put away your other weapon, just as a grenade explodes up ahead. The column you're using as cover takes most of it - bits of concrete shatter away as shards of metal crash up against it - but some of the shrapnel gets your leg. You're bleeding - how bad, you don't know, but it can't be too severe if you can still walk. (It hurts like fukcing hell, though.)

"Cover me!" you shout to your partner, and leave cover as fast as you can, limping quickly to the next column. Shots of plasma stream out from the guy hiding behind the column - some of them almost graze you. When he stops briefly, perhaps to reload, you hurry to the next column - his column - the guy that got you with the grenade. He leans out, trying to find you - and only too late looks upwards toward your face. Horrified, he leaps up to get away, shouting with pain as his legs give way under him - he rips out his plasma rifle and fires a few hurried, misaimed shots that fly to your left as you knock it away with your hand...

...and bring your kinetic gauntlet to bear. It's a glancing hit because he tries to dodge - something that would hardly do any damage to a person if you were bareknuckled... but you aren't. As your gauntlet hits his shoulder, there's a loud CRACK and a brief spark of light; the ruffian's body twirls about so fast that his neck can't keep up; you hear another sickening crack as his neck snaps - and keeps turning. He falls to the ground. He's not dead yet, but with those injuries, he won't last long.

You get behind cover again. It seems your friend still hasn't dealt with the last guy - which is kind of crazy. Couldn't even take care of one guy, really?

You figure there must be a reason for it... but Kiefa is getting away. If you don't go right now, you'll probably lose track.

Sparky
As you hoist up your plasma bomb launcher for another superpowered blast, you see a guy getting ready to throw a grenade, and hurriedly try to redirect your aim toward him. Here, your judgment errs - the first err of many, in fact; the plasma bomb launcher isn't good for split-second re-aiming, and the shots are scattered across the back of the room Two hit the ceiling, collapsing a chunk of concrete and twisted metal that fall in front of the doorway. The third shot crashes into grenade-guy's column, ripping it apart with a shower of debris amidst fiery green-glowing wisps of plasma.

Smoke clouds the ceiling. The room is thoroughly obliterated. Ron, your new partner, rushes forward, column to column, dodging shots as he goes, a powerful gauntlet on his right arm. He's getting ready to punch grenade-guy in the teeth.

Meanwhile, your attention is drawn away from him toward the man rushing at you from the far side of the room, gun blazing. "BLACK SERPENTS FOREVER!" he screams, ripping off what's left of his shirt as he charges, revealing a torn, bloody tattoo of a black snake coiling its way around his chest. One of his eyes are gouged out; he's in the blind rage of a battle frenzy. You look behind; there's nowhere to retreat.. unless you want to hop on your bike and ride away. Instead you put away your heavy weapon and pull out your pistol.

The man charges around the corner, shouting and screaming at you; bullets thud into your abdomen and hip as you try to leap aside, firing your pistol. At point blank, you ought to do wonderfully, but instead, every shot goes wide.

Your pistol clicks. You're out of ammo. The man hears it; senses it - he rushes towards you and smacks you hard across the head with his empty weapon, knocking you back. He kicks you in the chest, roaring a wordless battlecry, and you stumble back, tripping on rubble outside the building and falling on your ass.

How did this happen???

((This happened because you abused the multiroll rule. I'm guessing Trigger didn't give you any pointers: above all, you should never, ever say "shoot until X is dead"; your rolls become infinitely bad to the point that the only way they can be "good" is for you to have a natural +5 (without rolls) against whomever you're fighting - which, realistically, will almost never happen unless you're severely outmatching them and well-placed tactically.

You still have space to recover. Both of you need to roll, and player rolls come first in a layer. It'll be hard though. You're wounded, and amazingly still conscious, though in what's probably a serious amount of pain (not to mention bleeding). You've got your work cut out for you.))

Ron runs up to the stairs, staying in cover where possible, and peaks up.

IF it is clear he moves up the stairs cautiously, and takes cover once at the top.
> IF the target is visible, pull out the plasma streamer and fire at her.
> ELSE IF there are hostiles fire at two of them.

ELSE IF it is not clear, and the individual on the stairs looks hostile, he pulls out his plasma streamer and purges up to two targets on the stairs

(( read: fire at two of the targets if there are more than two Talvieno. Order by ugliest hostile. :3 ))

There's some quote I remember for just this occasion... what is it? Oh, right!

I draw my sword, saying "My name is Indigo Montana, you ate my french toast, prepare to die!", repeating it over and over.I want to stab this guy twice, or until dead, whichever happens first.Then, I'd like to reload my pistol, shooting him up to two times if he's still alive, or drawing my plasma launcher and using that to make some plasma art on the wall if he is dieded. (Not both)At the end of all this, FSM willing, if it is safe enough to do so, I will follow Ron up the stairs, laughing and saying "Oh, I've not had this much fun blowing things up since that one time with the bakery! Oh, sometimes I can't sleep at night, thinking about the looks on their faces.